


Celebrating Ryan's birthday

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [194]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Celebrating Ryan's birthday

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

"Holy crap," Sam says, blinking hard at the sight that greets them when they finally make it downstairs. They'd got the call earlier, that there'd be no shooting today because of the snow but he'd just buried his head back under the pillow and gone back to sleep. "When they say snow, they mean snow, don't they?" It's piled so high it's actually over the bottom of the windows and he doesn't even want to think about how much is on the other side of that door.

"Oh, man," Ryan breathes in agreement, staring out the wide kitchen windows at the snowfield of pristine white stretching all the way past the barn to the dock. It's rare that he sleeps in like he did this morning, but with Sam's crazy shooting schedule, Ryan figured that an opportunity to snuggle up with his lover beneath the covers was not to be missed. "It's a good thing I bought groceries yesterday. Or we might have to start eating each other."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Sam grins, nudging his shoulder against Ryan's. "Happy birthday," he murmurs, eyes sparkling, leaning in for a kiss. "You wanted to see snow before we left here. Look what you got."

"I got snow on my birthday," Ryan murmurs, totally charmed. He wraps his arms around his lover and pulls him in for a longer, deeper, dreamier kiss. "This is so fucking cool."

"I'm glad you feel that way because I think this just tanked my birthday plans," Sam says. "Unless it all melts by tonight." Fat fucking chance. Especially as it's still coming down.

"You shouldn't give away information like that," Ryan admonishes his lover with a bright smile. "For all I know, you planned the snowstorm, and Nature didn't dare say no. Fucking brilliant."

Sam laughs. "You said we got groceries in?"

"Oh, yeah. I got the shopping done like we're here for another week," Ryan admits, a trifle bashfully. He always tends to over-shop when it comes to food. "You can have..." He looks towards the kitchen, thinking. "Pretty much anything, I think. Steak, lasagne, shrimp, whatever." 

"So I should be able to make something up for dinner for us," Sam says. "Since I think we're pretty much stuck in here." He kisses Ryan again, lingering this time. "I don't suppose we have any popcorn or hot chocolate?"

"No... Wait, you're going to cook?" Ryan asks, surprised. "I mean, no, we don't have any popcorn, but we've got lots of chocolate, plus milk and cream. We can make really good hot chocolate."

"Well, you're not cooking on your birthday," Sam says with a laugh. "So you're stuck with whatever I make you." Not that he's the world's worst cook. He just doesn't do it very often. Even less since they got together. "How about we throw on a fire and pile all the pillows on the floor, have our hot chocolate down there?"

"Brilliant!" It hasn't yet been cold enough during their stay to build a fire, and Ryan's been itching to try out the huge woodpile of logs neatly split and stacked, just outside the barn. He even brought a few inside, just in case, ever optimistic... "Want to go start some milk warming in a saucepan? I'll get the fire going." 

"Sure. You want to use the really big mugs?" Sam asks, not yet easing his hold on Ryan, no matter how eagerly his lover's itching to get to the fireplace.

"Yes. And bring the marshmallows, obviously." Ryan's grin winks. "And maybe the Bailey's..."

"This is sounding better and better," Sam murmurs, kissing Ryan thoroughly again before finally letting him go. In the kitchen, he pulls out the big mugs, sets some milk to warm in a saucepan on the stove and digs through their stash of chocolate to find the best stuff. He's never actually had a snow day before. He's seen the stuff, sure, but never in this kind of quantity, and it kind of makes him feel like a kid again. Or would, if it weren't for his incredibly hot boy in the other room. There's a lot more that can be done in front of a fireplace besides roasting marshmallows.

Ryan stacks a few cut logs on the hearth, crumpling up some newspaper and tucking it in for kindling. It takes a few tries to get the flames to catch, but then he sits back in satisfaction, bathed in the warmth. Feeling giddy, he gets up to go check on Sam. "I love that smell," he says, slipping his arms around Sam's waist. "Actually," he sniffs the fragrant air of chocolate, "I love that smell, too."

"I couldn't find the marshmallows," Sam says, leaning back for a kiss as he breaks the chocolate into the milk, slowly stirring as it melts.

"No problem." Ryan kisses him back, then breaks away to scan the well-stocked pantry. "Here we go. The mini kind, perfect for hot cocoa. And... the big kind, perfect for s'mores," he says, triumphantly branding the two bags.

Sam breaks into a huge grin. "Have I told you lately just how much I love you?" he asks.

"Ha. Is it for my marshmallows, today? That's a new one," Ryan jokes, grinning widely. "Oh, here, let me--" he shoves the bags at his lover and takes the spoon right out of his hand, quickly whisking chocolate and milk together so that there won't be any lumps.

"I could've done that," Sam protests, leaning against the counter and watching Ryan work.

"Oh no, it's fine, it's fine," Ryan immediately cuts in, because the last thing he wants to do is make Sam feel inadequate. But they're working without a double boiler here, and once the melting chocolate gets clumpy it's just so annoying trying to get it smooth again... Better to take control of the situation early on, and avoid frustration all 'round. "Grab the heavy cream, please?"

"Sure." Sam rummages in the fridge, marshmallow bags still clutched in one hand, and comes up with the heavy cream. "Want me to open it?"

"Yes, please. Go ahead and pour..." Ryan eyes the container, "about half of that in," he says continuing to stir the fragrant heavy mass.

Sam does as he's told, careful to make sure he puts exactly the amount in Ryan wants. "Anything else? Want me to check on the fire?"

"Yes. Oh, but wait--" Ryan adds, and pauses in his stirring to give Sam a smacking kiss on the lips. Then he smiles, his eyes bright. "Go check on the fire, and I'll join you in just a minute." The chocolate is nearly done, and Ryan adjusts the heat before mentally declaring it perfection. He pours them each a huge mugful, then adds a healthy shot of Bailey's, and - of course - some mini-marshmallows to top it all off. "Ready?" he calls, lifting the mugs.

"Ready," Sam says, shifting a few more pillows into place before he settles down and holds out his hands for the mugs, waiting for Ryan to join him.

Ryan does so with a grin, giddy as a little kid when school's been canceled for the day. "This is awesome," he says, licking along Sam's lips and then snuggling in against him, the warmth of the flames flickering over him.

"Yeah, it is," Sam agrees, pulling Ryan in close and taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "Mmm. So's this."

"I apologize for the lack of whipped cream," Ryan murmurs, resting his cheek on Sam's shoulder. "I mean, I could make you some, no problem. We have all the ingredients. It's just that I'd have to get up again." And being right here feels so incredibly wonderful.

Sam's arm tightens around Ryan's waist. "You're not going anywhere," he says, putting an end to _that_ discussion.

Ryan grins, perfectly happy to be captured. "I love you," he says softly, after minutes have passed in silence. "I love moments like this. Where it's like nothing else in the universe exists but the two of us, right now."

"Me too," Sam murmurs, smiling. "I can't believe we got a snow day." He kisses Ryan and takes another sip of his hot chocolate. "I was hoping we'd get lucky and be able to go skiing up at the resort but the last time I looked at the forecast it said cold but no snow all the way through next week."

"Aww, seriously?" Ryan twists around to look at Sam's face, and pouts for an instant. "I haven't been snowboarding in forever," he says, leaning into his lover again. "We're still going to have a completely amazing time, though. Those pictures you sent me were absolutely gorgeous."

"It's a beautiful place," Sam says. "Nice and private. And we have our own fireplace in our suite there too."

"Awesome! Do you think they actually let guests set their own fires? That would be so cool." Ryan is a summer boy through and through; he's just charmed by the idea of cuddling in front of a lit hearth. 

"I think they might," Sam says, although to be honest, he doesn't have a clue. "There's a huge jacuzzi in the room too," he says with a smile, the fire and hot chocolate already working to lull him back to sleep.

"Oh, wow." Ryan leans back against the foot of the sofa, shifting so that Sam is in his arms. "A hot jacuzzi by a fireplace, chocolate, wine... extra lube..." He grins.

"Mm-hm. Speaking of which..." Sam murmurs. "Maybe we need some extra lube down here. See what we can get up to, since we can't get outside."

Ryan snickers. "Your wish, Sir," he intones, and carefully gets to his feet, shoving some pillows to take his place behind Sam's back. "I'll be right back." And sure enough, he is, with not just a small tub of lube but a few bathsheets as well. You know, just in case.

"I see we have some pretty high expectations," Sam teases, grinning, when he sees the bathsheets. "I don't suppose we have any empty wine bottles..."

In an instant Ryan cringes, his face reddening slightly. But - of course - he gives the question serious consideration anyway. "Uh, no, Sir," he says softly. "I put the recycling out yesterday." He sits back down on the floor next to his lover. "Would you like me to look for something else?"

"I think we can make do," Sam says, hooking a hand around the back of Ryan's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. "Love you." He smiles. "You'll just force me to get creative."

"I do adore it when you get creative," Ryan murmurs, the words slightly smeared against Sam's lips. "It always works out so well for me." He shifts and wraps his leg around Sam's waist, angling to rub against him.

"Slut," Sam murmurs but he's grinning. "I know what I promised you I'd do," he says, sitting back and disentangling himself from his lover. "Get your clothes off. I want you on all fours. You can face the fireplace or the windows," he adds, getting to his feet.

What he promised...? Now that's a tease. Sam could have promised Ryan pretty much anything, and he didn't even have to be fully awake when he did it. Not that it makes Ryan hesitate now. He undresses swiftly, shivering already the instant he steps too far away from the roaring fire. Going to his hands and knees on the hearth rug, he faces the vast cold windows, the idyllic snowfall beyond.

Sam strips down and washes up in the downstairs bathroom, making sure his nails are nice and short, with no jagged edges, his arms scrubbed well to the elbow. He's hard already, just from the thought of it, from sheer anticipation at claiming his boy so thoroughly. Can't resist giving his cock a quick tug, tamping down his arousal, before he heads back out.

Holding his position, Ryan shivers suddenly despite the heat of the flames. It could be the chill coming off the tall bare windows. It could just be sheer anticipation. Hearing Sam's light footsteps behind him, he spreads his thighs just a bit wider."

Good boy," Sam says, moving the tub of lube closer and dropping to his knees behind Ryan. His gaze locked on his boy's tattoo, on the tight slightly-slicked pucker at the centre of it. Christ. His cock throbs and Sam spreads Ryan's cheeks with his hands, using his thumbs to open up his hole for inspection.

Ryan moans, lust suffusing throughout his body in a rush. Being the focus of Sam's attention like this just melts him, and he has to work to hold his position.

"You let me know if you need me to stop, or slow down," Sam says, pushing his thumbs into Ryan's hole and opening him up even more, wishing he had the speculum, but it's at home with the rest of their toys. "Just touch my leg."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, wincing just a little at the stretch. He works to relax his muscles and try to ease Sam's way. Because god, he wants. Whatever his sir will give him. He wants it.

"Good boy." Sam pulls back to lube up his hand, making sure it's well-covered, before pushing two fingers into Ryan, curling them to stroke over that bundle of nerves.

Ryan moans again, long and low. "Oh god, Sir," he whispers, his body thrilling with the expert touch. "That feels so good."

"It does," Sam agrees, working a third finger in so easily, all three playing over Ryan's prostate.

And it's just so fucking cool to hear that. Sam enjoys this? Nearly as much as Ryan does? Fucking amazing. Because at moments like this, Ryan could swear that he himself is just the most fucking selfish person on Earth, greedily soaking up every bit of pleasure. "I love you," he murmurs, the words barely voiced. "Love you so fucking much."

Sam smiles at that. "I love you even more," he murmurs, teasing. Only not. His whole fucking world is right here, in this man. He spreads his fingers and then works the fourth in along the first three, watching, cock pulsing hotly, as Ryan's body stretches so eagerly for him.

Ryan groans as fire begins to flare along the rim of his hole, the stretch of muscle setting off alarm bells in his head. Not that he'd ever ask his sir to stop, hell no. He's an addict to his core, and Sam is his fucking drug. "Please," he whispers, hoping that Sam will fuck him. Hoping that Sam will fist him. Hoping...

"I'm getting there," Sam assures him, fitting his thumb inside Ryan's body as well, tucked into his palm as he moves deep and then deeper.

"Ohhh, my god." Ryan consciously relaxes his body even as he bears down to take his sir in more easily. He's lost count of how many times he's fisted himself this past year. But it doesn't matter: every time Sam does it to him, it's a whole new ballgame. "Sir," he whispers, surrendering. "Yes, Sir. Please. Take your boy."

Sam twists his hand deeper, working his way in by fractions, the muscle tensing for a moment, hard, when he reaches the widest part, before suddenly sucking him in, closing tight around his wrist.

Ryan cries out, dropping hard to his forearms, his head brushing the floor. "Oh, god," he whispers, and it's just something familiar to say, something to keep him going even though the words are already losing their meaning. Every nerve in his body is focused on that feeling of Sam invading him. "Oh, god. Sir."

"I know," Sam says softly, curling his fingers into a fist and gently twisting it into his boy.

Keening wordlessly, Ryan forces himself to push back, take more. To show that he craves this, needs this, every much as his sir might want to give it to him.

"You are so hot, so tight," Sam whispers. "You are such a good boy for me. So open and giving..." Making more room for himself, for his fist, inside Ryan.

Dragging heavy eyelids open, Ryan stares blindly out the window for a long moment. Gradually the view coalesces into something definite: snow is falling again, making the world outside seem just as dream-like at the one in here, by the fire, with his lover taking him over.

"Think you can take more for me?" Sam asks, steadily pushing deeper. He knows Ryan can but he wants to hear it from his boy before he does what he has in mind.

Ryan can't even be sure whether he nods in agreement or shakes his head in denial. It's just too much to bother concentrating on right now. "Yes, Sir," he manages to whisper, fairly certain that's the right answer whatever the question. "Please."

 _Christ._ Sam pulls his fist back until the widest part is stretching Ryan open again. Then he slides his cock into his grasp, wrapping his fingers around his swollen length before pushing it back in, a ragged groan spilling from his lips. 

"Sir," Ryan whispers. He could come just from hearing Sam make such sexy sounds, for _him_ , god. Forget that he's in pain so intensely twisted up with pleasure that he's overwhelmed. "Ah... I..." He shudders, struggling to clamp down on his orgasm.

"Hold on for me, boy," Sam says, beginning to thrust into his fist.

Suddenly it hits Ryan just what Sam is doing: what he promised, fisting Ryan and fucking into his fist at the same time. A shudder rocks Ryan's nerves and he howls, so caught in the brutality of this moment, this man.

"Good boy." _Fuck._ That howl goes straight to Sam's cock and he thrusts in even harder, gripping himself tighter as he jerks off inside Ryan.

Incoherent mindless babble spills from Ryan's lips in a strange mixture that's part adoration, part desperation -- and all begging. "Sir!" he manages, shoving back onto his lover. "Need!"

"Go ahead," Sam breathes, nodding, not even sure how this'll work. "Come for me, boy."

 _Come? Now?_ Ryan didn't even think that -- his body jerks violently and he sprays hot seed onto the hearth rug, splashing his inner thighs and belly as well. Still keening softly, and trying to ground himself.

The clamp of Ryan's body on his wrist and cock is downright painful and Sam hisses in a breath through gritted teeth, waiting until the muscles gripping him ease before pulling off a few more strokes and coming so fucking hard his vision goes white with it. "Jesus Christ..." he whispers, running his free hand over Ryan's flank.

Feeling nearly boneless, Ryan tries to collapse entirely. But he's still pinned, and he whines at the sudden sharp pain in his ass.

"Hey..." Sam slides that same hand under Ryan's hip, pulling him back into place. "Easy," he orders. "Give me a minute." Slowly easing both cock and fist from his boy.

Ryan tries to bite back the yelp but he doesn't succeed at all. And once Sam is clear of his body, Ryan just breaks down and cries.

Sam wipes his hand on the towel and pulls Ryan into his arms, holding him close to his chest. "Good boy," he whispers, kissing him softly. "I am so fucking proud of you."

It's not uncommon for Ryan to lose all emotional self-control during a rough scene with Sam: they were headed towards that point from their very first encounter together. What's unusual, however, is for Ryan to just sit in Sam's lap and bawl like a child, cuddled like one too.

"Hey. It's okay," Sam murmurs, just rocking Ryan, a blanket dragged in and draped over him. "I love you so much," he whispers, it suddenly hitting him so fucking hard that this man's going to be his husband soon. His husband. That their lives are going to be bound together forever. And there's nothing he wants more in the world than that. "More than anything."

Sniffling softly, Ryan gradually calms down, until eventually he's quiet and simply resting his head against Sam's shoulder. He's exhausted. But this - curled up with his lover, naked skin on skin, with the fire crackling and the snow falling silently outside - this is amazing. Soon he'll sleep, inevitably. But for the moment, he breathes deeply, savoring every sensory memory in the making. Hugging his sir - his world - back. "I love you."


End file.
